As Weekends Go (Choc Lit) Read Free

was scrawled across the front cover in black marker pen.
    ‘Poor Richard. He’d planned to drive up there tonight but his wife’s operation has been brought forward,’ said Abi, flicking a stray crumb off her lilac shift dress.
    ‘Ooh, nothing serious, I hope,’ said Rebecca, re-lighting one of her citronella tealights.
    ‘Nether regions.’ Abi winced as she said it. ‘Richard’s gutted. Not that he begrudges nursing his own wife, he adores her, it’s just that he’d hoped to take part in some charity golf event the manor is hosting tomorrow. The pair of them had planned to make a long weekend of it before his parents descend upon them from Norfolk for a month.’
    ‘And he offered you their room, just like that?’
    ‘Spa treatments too,’ said Abi, smoothing a hand over her sleek, brown bob. ‘I think he feels guilty for all those chronically boring evening consultancy meetings I’ve had to minute. His chance to say thank you, I suppose.’
    ‘And rightly so. He’d be lost without you. They both would. You don’t only run his diary, Abs, you’re his travel agent, come personal shopper, come sounding board. You’ve earned this break.’
    Abi smiled. ‘We could have travelled up there tomorrow if we’d wanted to, but that’s too short notice. Even for me.’
    ‘What, and Friday isn’t?’ Rebecca laughed, tugging the bottom of her black sleeveless top back into shape.
    ‘Fair point.’ Abi gave her a cheeky grin. ‘Richard assumed I’d take Nick, but when I told him he was flying to Spain tomorrow afternoon, he suggested I take a friend instead.’ She eyeballed Rebecca over the bottle of rosé before topping up both their glasses. ‘So what do you say, Mrs Stafford? I realise Greg doesn’t even know yet, but please tell me we have a date?’
    Greg doesn’t even know yet.
    Five little words that prevented Rebecca from shouting, ‘Yes, yes, yes!’
    Greg might be acting like a plum at the moment, but if the conference sucked, she’d feel rotten for not being there when he returned on Sunday. Conversely, if it was a roaring success, he’d be buzzing to tell her all about it.
    He also trusted Abi about as much as he did the withdrawal method.
    And then there was his mum’s seventieth birthday to consider. Pearl may well be in Jersey for the main event with his dad and half the bridge club, but with Greg having touted the idea of them hosting a small gathering for her at their place on Saturday week, Rebecca would have a cake to bake, lists to make and so forth.
    Or was she obstacle building?
    Pearl’s birthday party would hardly be crowds ‘r’ us and Rebecca had hosted so many family gatherings over the years that she could cater for them with her eyes shut.
    ‘You’ve gone all quiet on me,’ said Abi.
    ‘Sorry.’ Rebecca nudged down the volume on the radio. ‘I think I should run it past Greg first, that’s all. It’ll only antagonise him otherwise.’
    Abi leaned across the breakfast bar. ‘Hey, you say I’ve earned this break, well, so have you. I know Greg’s taking you to Cyprus at the end of August, but that’s seven or eight weeks away yet. When was the last time the two of us spent a few days together?’
    Majorca. Pre-Greg. It was ingrained in Rebecca’s mind.
    As were the caravan breaks in Weymouth together as kids with Mum and Dad; camping in Wales with Abi’s mum and moody stepdad; weekend road trips to wherever the dart landed on the map, and several jaunts around several Greek islands. So too, all their past raucous nights out together. Which begged the question: What if, in York, Abi should want to go clubbing? Rebecca hadn’t been clubbing for years. What on earth would she wear? She and Abi might share the same dress size, but image-wise they were poles apart. It amazed Rebecca at times how their friendship had lasted. Even their other halves had nothing in common except football.
    Which was, Rebecca suspected, down to Greg’s pride being wounded when he